My Father’s Photos
Kanako Kudo

After my father passed away in 2014, I was at the family home in Aomori sorting through hisbelongings, when I discovered some prints and a small number of negatives in a closet. I was
surprised, because my father had said he had no more remaining photographs worthy ofshowing anybody. The prints showed Aomori people from about seventy years prior, and werepassed on to the Aomori Prefectural Museum for safekeeping, as historical materials. As forthe negatives, whose contents we could not make out, these were simply left in the closet.
Then in 2018, as I was sorting through luggage ahead of my mother’s move to a residential
facility, I discovered more than ten color negatives, or slides, in the corner of a drawer. Thesewere quite dusty, but somehow still able to be developed by a photo studio on request. Thescenes they showed were of my elder brother as a one-year-old with our mother, the To-o
Nippo newspaper’s offices, and working people, presumably in the city of Aomori.
My mother’s great pleasure at seeing these photographs prompted a curiosity—perhaps
those other negatives contained further interesting material? And so another, fuller search of
the closet began, unearthing boxes and boxes of barely covered negatives.
I could not see how we could develop such a large quantity of film, but my husband (a TVcameraman) suggested digitization rather than printing, and promptly bought the necessary
equipment and took it upon himself to scan the images. All of the negatives were sent toTokyo, where my husband worked tirelessly at scanning them, while I nursed my mother inAomori. She was delighted when shown the pictures my husband would send. Since my father
never spoke much of his photography at home, and quite some time had passed since hestopped taking pictures, these images evoked nostalgic memories for her.
Most of the images were digitized by year’s end, and we were able to show many of theseto my mother while she was still well. As a family, we had discussed how nice it would be toeventually have a published collection, but this was left to one side as my mother’s condition
deteriorated.
In 2019, my mother passed away. I returned to work, yet due to the Coronavirus pandemic
and the resulting Emergency Declaration, my work was cancelled. So I unexpectedly hadsome time on my hands, taking the opportunity to set up an Instagram account under myfather’s name, where I started to share his photographs.

419

Many of the pictures date from the early 1950s, and appear to be snapshots taken en route
to work at To-o Nippo in Shinmachi from the house in Kitakanazawa where he lived before hewas married, or from Okidate, where I grew up. Prior to purchasing a car, it seems my father
walked to work each day, with his camera. Others pictures may come from vacations takenwith photographer friends, or during breaks on news assignments, but we can only guess.
During that time, between 1951 and 1957, my father submitted his work to magazines
such as CAMERA (ARS Publishing) and Nippon Camera (Nippon Camera Company)
where it was highly rated, frequently being selected for monthly features judged by the likes
of Ken Domon, Ihei Kimura, and Hiroshi Hamaya. When these men visited Aomori on
photography tours, my father would accompany them as a guide. He was invited to Tokyo fora ‘Gathering around Ihei Kimura & Ken Domon: Top 10 Prizewinners’ Symposium as part ofa feature in the January 1954 edition of CAMERA. Yet he later told me he felt he could notmeasure up to the other young artists there, who were engaging in high-minded debates onsocial issues, while he came from a poor family, lacked academic qualifications, and was only
capable of taking snapshots around Aomori. And although he was making a name for himself
in the photographic magazines, after a while he began to struggle to reconcile this with hismain job as a newspaper photographer, and so abruptly stopped submitting his work. In otherwords, he decided to give up his artistic aspirations as a photographer, and to remain inAomori. Given this, releasing my father’s work now in this way may not accord with his own
wishes. Yet, the fact that the negatives remained for decades in a closet suggests that they were
important to him; he could not abandon them.
I decided as a daughter to release my father’s work because I myself thought they were fine
photographs, and wished for them to be seen by many people. And if people should discover
their old selves and their families in those pictures, deriving joy and nostalgia from them, thenI think my father would be happy too. I also felt grateful to think that this release might help
to attract information about the period and locations of the photographs, enabling a deeper
appreciation of them, and provide an opportunity to examine the history of the region.
To my surprise, the Instagram account has drawn a large response from overseas, suggesting these photographs resonate even for people who do not know Aomori. I have been particularly touched to receive comments from the many followers in Santiago, Chile, saying“this looks just like my own village today.” I believe there is something powerful in thesephotographs, that they are able to bring joy to many people internationally, vividly andwordlessly conveying the social setting of the Tohoku region at that time, and some of theforgotten culture of Aomori.
In Aomori immediately after the war, it seems hardly anybody possessed a camera. Given420this context, I do not know how it was that my father, still only in his 20s, could becomedrawn so passionately towards photography, yet he worked and worked until he finallymanaged to acquire a camera himself. Film cannot have been cheap either. My father’s
photos convey a youthful energy and joy, just to step into town and snap whatever he happened to see.
It is also striking that so many smiles are pictured. Although people at that time were notaccustomed to photography, perhaps my father addressed and approached them with a smile
before snapping them.
As I recall my father, he was like many Japanese men of that time—practically a workaholic; barely taking a break 365 days a year; not saying much, certainly not about his work; notone to chat casually around the house. When he did speak, he could be abrupt and stern, andI imagine he may have struggled in his social life. Morning and evening he would go sea fishing; at home he specially made a greenhouse where he would immerse himself in cultivatingorchids and chrysanthemums; these were the solitary hobbies which he loved. So it is hard toimagine my father chatting and smiling as he took photographs, but these pictures show me
what he was like as a young man.
After he stopped taking photos, my father would go sea fishing every single day, in rain orsnow, by the ferry port or lumber yard. Rockfish, Japanese halfbeak, horse mackerel, black
porgy—he enjoyed drying or pickling his catches and offering them to the neighbors. Hecontinued even after he became unwell, his fishing companions accompanying him. When hebecame immobile, he still continued to watch programs about fishing and the sea. (He loved
the NHK’s serial morning drama Amachan but was angry when its setting moved away fromthe Sanriku coast—they stopped showing the sea!) For the funeral, the funeral director heard
about this and kindly decorated the altar with flowers in an ocean-like design, and even prepared a display showing leaping fish. The casket travelled specially by the seafront route to thecrematorium.
Finally, a little over a year since the initial release on Instagram, that it has been possible
to put on exhibitions and publish a book has been thanks to the many people who have kindly
offered their support. With this encouragement, I have been able to continue posting theimages from day to day. I offer my heartfelt thanks. I am delighted that my father’s photos areavailable for your enjoyment.
June 3rd, 2021

421